


Proven

by Sigmund



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, slight angst, some humor I hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:37:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2306639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigmund/pseuds/Sigmund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porthos is on a mission and d'Artagnan intervenes at the wrong time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AZGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AZGirl/gifts).



> AZ Girl commented after I posted Undone said it was Porthos's turn to hurt d'Artagnan. I did not set out to do a series or write this over the weekend, but once started I find that I like to finish. Let me also take the opportunity to thank those who have given my other stories kudos-- thank you very much! 
> 
> This work had not been betaed.

Porthos's mission was to find out information about the bandits attacking the outskirts of Paris in random attacks. Evenings found him in taverns, ones he would not frequent with his friends. On the Rue Du Bastille in a darken corner he gambled with his new friends, winning and losing some and plying them with wine while he kept his wits.

Succeeding in finding a relation or connection to the bandits he lost a few sous, but gained an introduction. Pleased with himself he looked around the tavern to see d'Artagnan near the bar speaking to the barkeep. Porthos bowed his head in order to seem smaller, not noticeable although being a person of his size made it difficult.

In the end he had to have faith in d'Artagnan not to ruin his ruse. Darting his eyes while still having a conversation with new friends, he noted the young musketeer had left the premises. He played his relief off as too much drink and joviality, which encouraged the men to decide to bring him to one of the bandits. Porthos excused himself to relieve himself before their journey.

The air outside was brisk with the beginnings of a change in the season as was the smell of fire wood burning. Porthos took in a deep breath before noticing a familiar color blue cloak in the alcove across the way.

It was not his best idea to go to d'Artagnan. He was greeted with a warm smile. "This was unexpected. You're fine?" The younger man asked, studying Porthos although they had seen each other earlier in the day.

He waved away the concern, but was caught off guard when his compatriots from the tavern called out to him. "He giving you a hard time?"

Porthos glanced at d'Artagnan. There was not enough time for the Gascon to run away so instead he grabbed him by his cloak. "Thought he could give me trouble cause he's a musketeer."

"Need help teaching him a lesson?" The shorter, burly man rubbed his hands. "You can hold him."

Thankfully, d'Artagnan was trying to wrestle himself out of Porthos's grip. "Release me!"

Another decision had to be made so Porthos pulled back his fist and hit his friend, clipping him in the jaw, following it up by a blow to the stomach which sent d'Artagnan crumpling to the dirt. Pushing the other men away so they could do no further damage, Porthos hoped his friend would forgive the drastic action he had to take.

((()))

With more than enough information about the raiders involved Porthos felt confident he could return to the garrison and get reinforcements. He had been worrying about d'Artagnan, too, having to push the lad to the back of his mind to complete the mission so he hurried through mid-morning Paris.

Aramis was there to greet him as he entered the garrison.

 

"d'Artagnan-"

The sharpshooter held up his hand with a smile. "He's fine. Quite pleased with himself in fact."

"Pleased?" Porthos was expecting to grovel and beg forgiveness. What a strange turn of events.

Aramis shook his head in amusement. "Come, you'll have to hear this for yourself, then you can report to Treville."

Stunned, he allowed his friend to lead him to their usual table. d'Artagnan stood up with a grimace to meet Porthos, his face showing a fresh bruise of purple on his chin that crept up towards his cheek. "It was my mistake-I should not have waited."

Porthos accepted the extended hand, then pulled the younger man into a hug, which caused d'Artagnan to cough.

"Stomach is a bit sore. I'm fine. Truly." d'Artagnan took his seat next to Athos.

"The only thing he is put out about is that a Red Guard helped him to the garrison," Athos added before returning to his meal.

d'Artagnan had taken a bite of the stew, but avoided eating on his left side. Porthos looked away planning on buying a soft pastry for the lad.

Once the younger musketeer swallowed he explained further, "I carry a wound from each of you."

Athos shifted a small movement that Porthos and Aramis noticed. "The injuries from us you consider a badge of honor?"

"Athos don't encourage him," Aramis interrupted.

Porthos stared at d'Artagnan waiting for an answer. He did have a wound from each of them- Athos had shot him, Aramis had also shot him and now Porthos had beaten him. It made him question the boy's sanity. Being around them was risky and unhealthy.

"It is a matter of respect."

"You have out respect, lad." Porthos leaned in to keep the conversation private.

d'Artagnan gave a short nod in acknowledgement before allowing his eyes to roam over the courtyard. "There are others that say you put up with me. That I do not belong with you three since you have never allowed anyone else. . ."

Aramis's eyes narrowed, and even Porthos was looking around suspiciously, but it was Athos who pressed. "Who?"

The younger man had enough sense to not share the names of his fellow musketeers. He waved them off. "It doesn’t matter because you've done your worst and I am still here. I survived the three inseparables." d'Artagnan grinned with pride.

Aramis reached over the table, but couldn't quite make it. "Athos, check for fever or he's mad. What happened to you was not a test to pass or fail. My deepest apologies again if you believe that you have only gained our trust because you're our whipping boy."

"Mine too. You will never be harmed by my hand again," Athos added with a frown. "You are one of us."

But Porthos understood what it felt like to not quite fit in and have to prove yourself. The wounds gave d'Artagnan the confidence he belonged with them unconditionally- whatever happened to him could have happened to any of them. Porthos corrected the younger man, "It's four now. The four inseparables. Don't forget that."

The end


End file.
